


Would it be too late?

by lazyhead



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, But they don't die die, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Fluff, He's also v whipped, Jeno is one sad boii, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rebirth, Time Travel, it's not that sad I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 11:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17507528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyhead/pseuds/lazyhead
Summary: In which Jeno found himself being involved in a series of peculiar events.





	Would it be too late?

The last moment of Jeno’s life happened like this. A flashing light right in front of his eyes, so bright he almost couldn’t the car that came right behind them, a crash, and then him, laying in the poodle of his own blood on the side of Seoul’s most crowded street. It wasn’t a hit and run, rather a planned terrorist attack that Jeno later learned, took his life as well as 10 other people. But right at that moment, laying on the cold street in the middle of December, all Jeno thought about was how excruciatingly freezing it was, so much that he couldn’t even move his fingers. 

He was thankful though, maybe the numbness caused by the cold spared him a little bit of pain. Just maybe.

Jeno vaguely registered someone calling out his name, voice laced with frantic worry and devastation. Had he had left in him even an ounce of concentration, he would have made out Donghyuck’s voice, but it wasn’t until Donghyuck’s worried expression came into his peripheral vision that he recognised the boy, or rather – the one love of his life.

“Jeno. Fuck, Jeno.” Donghyuck lifted his trembling hand up to cup Jeno’s face. There were already tears stained on his flushed cheeks. Donghyuck was always like that, Jeno thought to himself, ever so quick to cry. 

He wanted to ask why Donghyuck cried, wanted to ask him what happened, wanted to ask if someone’s words hurt him unintentionally again, or if, God forbid, there was something wrong with his Bongshik. But then came a painful jolt on the side of his head, and Jeno realised it must have been him who made Donghyuck cried after all.

The worst thing was, he didn’t have enough energy to even wipe Donghyuck’s tears for him. Donghyuck kept saying something Jeno didn’t understand, everything sounded like he was listening to them through muffled ears. He tried so hard to understand, though. He never wanted to miss a thing Donghyuck said.

“Don’t go, don’t leave me, fuck.” A moment of clarity flashed through his hazy mind, lips curling up to a small smile, Jeno tried his best to speak, but all that came out was a whisper.

“Silly, where could I go?” The sound felt foreign even to his ear, never in his life had he sounded this tired, not even during that time when he caught a cold for one whole month. 

Donghyuck had long resorted to just crying his feelings out, still relentlessly calling out Jeno’s name like some sort of prayer. He looked smaller than ever curling into himself like that, yet somehow Donghyuck still got half a mind left to shield Jeno away from everything else, as though fearing something else might hurt him.

Jeno’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He thought. Even in moments like these, when his legs were crushed and his skull probably fractured, when there was little left in life for him even if he survived, the thing that pained him the most still related to Donghyuck. Maybe his dying wish was to reach out and tell Donghyuck things would be okay even when he was gone. Maybe it was to press a long, hard kiss on his forehead one last time – this time he would do it properly, not like those other times when he sneakily stole one while Donghyuck was asleep. Maybe it was to tell him he was sorry he couldn’t be there for Donghyuck 25th birthday, or for later on when he got married. He was sorry he wouldn’t get to be the godfather to Donghyuck’s baby.

Maybe it was to tell Donghyuck he loved him, had been for so so long.

Jeno didn’t get to do any of that though. He left on the 12th of December, at the age of 24, still so young and on top of his career. The last sight he saw before everything turned back was Donghyuck’s crying face. And his last words.

“Please don’t cry.”

-

Everything was dark in Hell, but it wasn’t fiery burning hot massive cauldron like some folklores made it out to be. In fact, it was rather quite chilling, not exactly cold – but there was certainly that eerie quality that was often depicted in many horror movies. 

There were 10 other people with him, sitting on a boat crossing through the river. Their destination was no wear in sight, and while some of them looked confused, the rest seemed to know what was going on.

“So we died, huh?” A guy in his early thirties asked.

Two young girls sitting together on the far end of the boat started crying at that, and then, just like spreading fire, everyone else but Jeno followed suit. Jeno guessed he should be crying too, there were still so much to his life, so many things he had yet to do. 

Maybe if Mark was here, he would have told Jeno to let loose, to cry out as much as he wanted to. Maybe Renjun and Jisung would have bawled their eyes out with him as well, those crybabies. Jaemin would be there to pat his back as he handed him some tissues, Chenle would tease the fuck out of him. And Donghyuck for once, for all he knew, might have been speechless.

But alone on a boat full of strangers floating aimlessly into the vast darkness of Hell, Jeno felt like there would be no point of crying. He still had his old clothes on, those didn’t just magically dissipate into thin air as he’d imagined. Jeno clutched the front of his coat closer together, his hand came up to caress his own face as if to blindly seek for any trace of warmth from Donghyuck’s hand. He sat there for hours, thinking about all the stuff that happened in his, albeit short, eventful 24-years life. 

The day before he officially entered SM as an idol, Jeno sat down with his mom and dad and promised them to do only the things that would make him happy, but also never to neglect his duties as a trainee, as an artist. Jeno’d love to believe he led a quite fulfilling life – nowhere near perfect, but he’d accomplished more than half the people his own age ever could. Of course there were moments he didn’t want to relive, but he was happy. 

Jeno was happy.

Twisting the silver ring on his index finger that his sister gifted him – one of the only remnants he had with him that proved his existence on Earth, Jeno all but drowned in the cries of others, until tiredness and the heavy weight in his chest finally pinned him down. Jeno closed his eyes in trying to catch some rest, although the whole concept of resting seemed ridiculously useless to him right now. This time, there was nothing but darkness that greeted his sight.

-

The Reaper, or Hell’s personal tour guide as Jeno had managed to dub him, had all 11 of them walked in two lines. There weren’t any strict rules at all, he’d said. They were only asked to not try anything stupid like running back to the boat, he’d even told them to feel free to ask him questions if any.

In contrast to what he thought would have been a Q&A fess, no one in their group muttered a word, Jeno wasn’t sure if it was because they came to term with their situation or if they simply just didn’t want to have answers. Some things were better left unknown, anyway. He himself had thought of a question or two, but he kept mum nonetheless. It wasn’t like him to speak out of line, nor was it like him to drawn unnecessary attention to himself, even in death. Old habits truly did die hard as they said.

The walk is not a long one, and soon enough they were greeted by the sight of a bizarre looking mirror, standing over 3 metres in height. There was some sort of barrier surrounding its outside too, a milky hue that obscured the mirror’s reflection.

“We stop here.” The Reaper finally said, hand raising up signalling them to stop. His voice an unexpectedly melodic tone for someone that looked as gaunt as he did; it was a nice surprise nonetheless. Everybody stopped on cue, and The Reaper asked the first person in the line to step inside the barrier enclosing the gigantic mirror.

“Don’t try to make any sudden moves. You wouldn’t want to know what I can see.” The Reaper said easily, but it didn’t come off as an empty threat, so everyone stood perfectly in place, waiting for their turn as The Reaper led the first of them inside the barrier.

Once they were in nothing could be seen or heard. Jeno’s guts were yelling at him, telling him to flee because as it seemed, this – whatever it was, would be his final stop, and it looked like he wasn’t the only one who was feeling more anxious as time went by. Jeno didn’t have an idea how long it took but it sure did seem like an eternity later when The Reaper finally came back out, this time, by himself.

Someone might take a look at Jeno when he saw The Reaper returned alone and thought that he was calm. He was anything but, in reality. He guessed all those years he spent schooling his facial expression had its perk, after all. Hands sweating bucket, Jeno hastily wiped his palm against his bloodied jeans before cracking his knuckles one by one – a nervous tick he’d had ever since his pre-debut days.

Truth to be told Jeno never thought of himself as someone who was easily shaken, nor did he ever fear Death like most people did. What he feared, was the uncertainty behind every single situation. Maybe that was why he never took the risk to confess to Donghyuck, or to stand up for himself when he was mistreated by his company. Maybe that was why he spent his life thinking he wasn’t enough. Not for Donghyuck, not for his girlfriend who he briefly dated in an effort to get over Donghyuck, not for anyone.

 

And now, standing inside what’s most likely his resting place, Jeno feared he would forget. Jeno feared he would start a life without even knowing who he was, what he had done, without even knowing his mom, his dad, his annoying but loving older sister. His friends, his brothers, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, all of them. And Donghyuck. 

“You are Lee Jeno, right?” The guy standing right in front of him turned his head and said. “I thought you look familiar when we were on the boat, you are really him, huh?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood to-“ Jeno quickly said, he really didn’t have it in him to make some small talk. They would all be gone in a moment anyway.

“I know. I’m not too. Just that my nerves are getting the best of me and-.” He stopped to breathe in, as though to compose himself. “Feels like I’m going crazy.” The man chuckled.

“Like, it still doesn’t feel real? I’m here in the middle of nowhere with one of the most famous actor right now, and we are all in bloodied clothes with caked dirt on our face. And my skull is bashed in!” He continued, it was slightly depressing to hear, but Jeno found himself empathising anyhow. The man looked like he needed some help, even if at this point it probably didn’t matter, so Jeno sighed inwardly and replied.

“I’d love me some chicken right now.” Some jellies would be nice too, or anything just to keep him occupied. “Used to sneak out to Hangang in the middle of the night to eat them all the time.”

“Must be hard, huh? Being famous?” The man asked, the tone of his voice surprisingly understanding. Jeno’d been asked the same question many times before, but it was always sprinkled with a hint of mocking.

“It’s alright. You get used to it.” Jeno said nonchalantly. “But there would be times when I have to go on a diet, and I ever wanted was to stuff my face with jellies.”

The man let out a small laugh that got Jeno’s lips curled into the faintest of smile too. No matter how bleak their whole situation actually was, it was always nice to make people laugh. That was one of the things he loved the most about being under the spotlight, the ability to cheer people up even when he himself was at rock bottom.

“Dongmin. That’s my name.” The man said before adding. “I’m your hyung, by the way.”

Jeno held out his hand with a smile and replied. “Pleasure to meet you, you already know but, I’m Jeno.”

They chatted on for a while, learning bits and pieces about each other. They would have been good friend had they met when they were still alive, Jeno could tell. It was a pity they met like this. It truly was a pity.

Time flies when you had someone to talk to, and Jeno was once again reminded by that fact for the long line in front of the both of them had pretty much disappeared. 

It was Dongmin’s turn to come inside the barrier, and the two of them didn’t say any goodbyes or anything of that sort. But Jeno squeezed Dongmin’s shoulder as a silent good luck, and they shared a small smile.

And then it was just Jeno again.

-

Once Dongmin was gone, Jeno realised yet again how excruciatingly boring it was to be alone with close to nothing but the ring on his finger to amuse him. And naturally, as human all did when they’ve got nothing better to do, Jeno started musing about life – past life. 

He remembered thinking to himself every now and then how small his existence was in the vast scheme of the universe, that when he died people would mourn for him just for a while. He’d kept that thought with him forever, he’d thought that people around him would be fine. Sure, there would be tears and pain, but ten years down the line his name would just be a nostalgic inducing phrase, his voice, his face, the things he did nothing more than the dust flowing in the wind. He would die not once but twice, first here – now, and later on when there was no one left to remember who he once was. Jeno had come to term with that a long time ago, and he’d been fine with it, with being forgotten.

It would take time, he guessed. But he never guessed how long it would take, never guessed how painful it would be for everyone else around him – having undermined his own worth for so fucking long. 

Not until now, here, when he stood right in front of the giant mirror, watching as his own funeral unfold.

“How long have I been dead?” He choked, the first sentence he’d spoken to The Reaper in the days they met. 

“A while. Your burial was 3 days ago, this is just a replay.” The Reaper said slowly, as though breaking it down for Jeno gently.

Jeno saw Mark leading the procession while carrying his name plague, his body shaking with every step he took. His sister followed right behind him, holding Jeno’s photo in her trembling hands, yet she clutched on so tightly, as though afraid of letting him go. They surely chose the prettiest photo for him, the one with him smiling from ear to ear, the one where he looked genuinely happy.

And then there was his mom, his dad, his relatives, who were all weeping and calling out his name. As his friends, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, Donghyuck and Doyoung amongst many other carried out his coffin, his mom came over and laid a kiss on his coffin, right where his forehead would have been. She said something inaudible, but Jeno could just about hear her soothing gentle voice in his mind. He just, couldn’t take this anymore. 

Jeno yelled out in pain, in grief, in anger and in regrets. How foolish of him to think he would be fine, how could he ever be fine after knowing what he did to his own loved ones? He sunk down to his knee, looking at the image of his mother on the giant mirror while mumbling his apologies. 

He bowed his head once, twice, thrice, all the while with tear streaks running down his face. The pain and the guilt laid thick in his throat, no matter how many times he swallowed they just wouldn’t go down. 

“I’m so sorry. Mom. I’m so sorry. Thank you for loving me, I’m forever grateful I was born your son, I just wish our time together wasn’t so numbered.” Jeno whispered while keeping his head on the ground. “If I were to be reborn again, I hope I’m still your son, mom.” 

He didn’t know where his soul would go after this, if he would even get his relief after all. His grandma used to tell him people would be given a special drink to forget their past life and move on with the reincarnation circle, but still, Jeno didn’t want to forget. Not before he knew the pain he inflicted on his friends and family, not even after, when the guilt was already eating him from the inside out.

“It’s not your fault.” The Reaper said as if reading his mind. “The culprit was caught, you know. He’s rotting in jail as we are speaking.” He said, thinking that piece of information would calm Jeno somehow.

It didn’t. 

Seeing how Jeno was still shaking vigorously on the ground, so enclosed in agony, The Reaper all but sighed. Even for someone who had witnessed so much torture in life, The Reaper couldn’t bear to see the sight of the man breaking down in front of him.

“Could I see him? Please?” Jeno quietly said. “Donghyuck?”

The Reaper complied, showing Jeno different cuts, different stages of Donghyuck’s mourning. He’d been crying for a few days straight, even refusing to leave Jeno’s body to eat or to sleep. He’d blamed himself for not being able to help, he’d said sorry to Jeno’s parents for hours and hours. When there was no one but him staying up to watch Jeno’s body, Donghyuck would sing him all the songs that he knew Jeno loved, even all the ones that he knew Jeno didn’t but still listened to because of him.

Jeno watched on for hours, but out of those, there was one that stuck in his mind.

“I wish I knew what you wanted to say before you go, Jeno. You always looked like you wanted to tell me something. You secretive bastard, couldn’t even let me have the pleasure of knowing one last weird secret from you, could you?” His voice broke at the end of the question, yet through the sobs and hiccups, Donghyuck managed to add. “I wouldn’t have judged you, you know that. I could judge the world, but never you, Jeno, never you.”

Only Donghyuck would manage to topple his world even when he was dead, Jeno chuckled fondly as he wiped unshed tears from the corners of his eyes. That was the one regret that he had, not being able to tell Donghyuck how he felt, he wondered if it was a good thing or not, he wondered if things would have been different.

“Oh it would.” The Reaper chimed in, magically reading his mind again. “Be thankful you didn’t tell him, Jeno. If you did, he would be joining you here sooner or later.” 

“Oh.” Jeno breathed out, surpised. “Oh…” 

“You lived half of your life wanting to tell him, huh?” The Reaper asked, though it came out closer to a statement than a question. Jeno nodded slowly, still trying to figure out how he felt about the whole situation. 

“Good thing you didn’t though. Now, I would suggest you move on by –“, he said, then stopped to fish out something from the inside of his cloak, “drinking this vial. You will forget everything, I promise.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Jeno said hoarsely. “What if I want to live knowing? Or not to live, at all, I could just be a wandering soul for all I care.”

For the first time, The Reaper stepped closer to where Jeno was, even went as far as sitting down on the dirty ground and patting the space next to him, signalling Jeno to sit down.

Jeno figured the reaper wasn’t what the media and folklore made him out to be just minutes after he met the man, but for him to be this close, this human was still a shock to Jeno. Still, he sat down obediently.

“You were loved, Jeno. You were, not only by your friends, your family, your fans but also by the guardian angels who protected you your whole life. They fought for you to stay alive, my dear, but fate is wicked and she would always be. She woven into your stars that you would die on that day, at the age of 24, as a plot device to enrage a whole nation – only because she knew you would be loved, and because she knew have you lived you would be the only one capable of changing what she’d set up.”

He stopped, looking Jeno straight into his eyes. 

“Bad things are to come after your death, Jeno. Bad things. I might be a reaper now but I too was once human. And there is no rule in the book that stated you can’t be reborn.” 

Before Jeno could even process what he’d meant, The Reaper sent him a small smile. And with a flick of his fingers, the giant mirror moved aside to reveal what looked eerily like a lift. 

“Get inside, my boy.” The Reaper said, pushing him in the lift and then closed the door. “Don’t change too much of your life, Lee Jeno. You got to be where you got to be in order to alter your own fate. Just remember.”

With a familiar “ding”, the one he’d heard so many times before, the lift went up. A white flash blinded him temporarily, and when Jeno opened his eyes again, he was in a lift with his mom, going down to the ground floor of their building.

“Are you nervous, love?” His mom, who looked around 10 years younger and…taller, asked. “You shouldn’t be. You should be excited! It’s your first day at SM!” She said to his surprise.

Jeno looked down to his own body, all lanky with bones and skin, and when he spoke, his voice a high pitched sound, almost to the point of sounding shrilly.

“Mom, what date is this today?”

“You really are nervous huh. It’s 18 of May 2013 silly. Why’d you ask?” 

Jeno gulped down all the question filling up inside his throat and replied with a smile. 

“Nothing mom, just wanted to remember this day clearly.”

**Author's Note:**

> literally don't know how this one gonna go but i was itching to write some nohyuck so uhhh this happened.


End file.
